Tag: thunderstorm

Day 72: Oregon Skyline Trail to Rosary Lakes

The thunderstorm which had roared in my dreams through the night cleared by the morning, or so I thought. As I walked by the crystal clear Diamond View Lake on my way back to the main PCT, the bright morning sun began to disappear again behind darkening grey clouds. Fearing being caught out in the open by another storm, I aimed my feet toward Shelter Cove, a small resort nestled against the shores of Odell Lake. I wasn’t quite fast enough, however, and the skies opened up in a bone-drenching downpour. Following the trail along a creek swollen with rainwater, I eventually reached the paved road leading to the resort.

Shelter Cove certainly lived up to its name. As soon as I arrived I ducked under the giant tent the managers had graciously set up for PCT hikers, finding a treasure trove of discarded ramen packets and half-empty peanut butter jars. When the heavy rain started to subside I made my way over to the small cafe where I enthusiastically ordered a burger and beer to warm my stomach. My friend Radek, who had taken the official route, then appeared and we decided to hike out together once the storm finally broke.

We found a beautiful campsite on a small wooded isthmus between two lakes. It had hailed during the thunderstorm but the tiny balls of ice quickly melted. I set up my tent on a dry patch of pine needles. The rain returned as Radek and I ate dinner. We didn’t linger and I was soon warm and dry in my down sleeping bag. Unfortunately the delicious burger I had so enjoyed at Shelter Cove did not agree with my stomach, and I was forced to abandon my little sanctuary to go dig a cathole. Doubly unlucky was my location directly in between two lakes, which meant I had to trek a fair distance up a hill in the dark and wet to get far enough to avoid contaminating the water. For the second time that day I wasn’t quite fast enough, and what had been a cozy if damp evening turned into an uncomfortable and messy night. Good thing I brought that extra pair of underwear.

Day 30: Sonora Pass to Wolf Creek Tributary

Clambering among the reddish rocky outcrops on the north side of Sonora Pass, I met a hiker named Martin from the Czech Republic. We struck up a conversation and proceeded to hike most of the day together, swapping trail stories and discovering a shared love of watching the stars in the brilliantly clear Sierra sky. We ate lunch on a flat boulder halfway up a canyon, airing our feet out and changing socks to avoid blisters.

After lunch the sky steadily grew darker as rain clouds gathered on the horizon. Soon enough we could see lightning crackling to the south, and this time once the rain began it kept going all afternoon. Following the trail across an open ridge, I took my ice axe/lightning rod from the top of my pack and carried it in my hand instead in what was probably a futile effort (Martin certainly thought so). When the thunder seemed as if it were ripping directly overhead we decided to wait out the heart of the storm and sheltered in some dense forest. This was my first real day of rain on the trail, and I enjoyed listening to the drops plop quietly among the trees. The music of the rain.

Day 29: Dorothy Lake to Sonora Pass

At midday under the hot sun I reached the start of a long climb up a barren, scree-covered ridge. Although a few switchbacks were still submerged in snow, the intense heat beat down on me as I steadily gained altitude. Reaching the summit I looked north to the trail ahead and saw the path winding along the desolate ridge-top under some friendly-looking cumulus clouds, expansive views of the valleys and ranges dropping off to either side. Then I looked south. An unbroken sea of the darkest clouds I had yet seen were gathering in the distance. And they appeared to be coming my way.

I checked the map. Eight miles to Sonora Pass. Eight long miles of completely exposed ridge walking, and me with a giant metal ice axe sticking out the top of my pack. Probably not the best place to be if those dark clouds heralded a thunderstorm. I could either go back down the way I had come and find shelter, or push on to where the trail descended steeply to the highway pass. Watching the clouds for a minute, I decided to try for the pass.

Hustling as fast as I could across the rocky landscape, I traversed large snow patches and clambered over boulder fields while it slowly become darker and darker, the thunderclouds starting to amass around the barren ridge. Taking only a couple of short breaks to catch my breath, I finally reached the point where the trail began to descend. As soon as I did, a roaring clap of thunder pealed out of the sky directly above where I stood. I glanced ahead and saw the trail take a very long and slow path switchbacking down the mountain. Just off the the left, however, lay an steep patch of snow with a clear route where previous hikers had glissaded to the bottom. Trusting that the slide didn’t lead directly over a cliff, I took out my ice axe, sat down on the snow and slid quickly down from the ridge just as the storm truly began to rage.

With lighting flashing in the near distance and piercing thunder howling above me, I dropped about a thousand feet in the span of a few minutes. Tossing my metal axe and trekking poles to the side, I took shelter next to some bushes at the bottom while the storm poured down rain. It passed quickly, and by the time I arrived at Sonora Pass it was as if those dark clouds had never been, the sun shining brightly in a clear blue sky.